


A Circle of Violence

by Akiko_Natsuko



Series: Reaper76 [72]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angry Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Broken Promises, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Hate Sex, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Love/Hate, M/M, Promises, Serious Injuries, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-13 12:40:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21494452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiko_Natsuko/pseuds/Akiko_Natsuko
Summary: Jack Morrison had never loved violence, and yet it became his way of life. It became as easy as breathing, and there were days when that was enough to leave him feeling sick to his stomach. Then he met Gabriel. And Gabriel didn’t love violence per se, but he had a more intimate relationship with it than Jack did, turning it into an artform that should have horrified Jack, but didn’t. Then peace happened, and Overwatch with its promotions and difficulties. Their violence was restrained. Limited. Bursting out under those tensions, filling the distance that crept between them, until it was the only way they could communicate with one another.They fought, they had sex….and the cycle repeated.
Relationships: Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison
Series: Reaper76 [72]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1188655
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	A Circle of Violence

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that if you want to talk to me about my fics and writing, or anime/shows/games in general then you can now find me on discord [The Unholy Trinity](https://discord.gg/jdpcfy6XTB).

Jack Morrison had never loved violence.

As a child he had been the most tender-hearted of the Morrison children, flinching away from the harsher aspects of the farming life, desperately trying to save any animal in his care. Oh, he would rough-house with his brothers, and his sister, who refused point-blank to be left out and they had all soon realised that she was the best scrapper of them all, but he was always cautious, especially when he hit his growth spurt and overtook all but his older brother. He had seen other children use their size and strength against others and had even been on the receiving end of it more than once, but he refused to be like that. That didn’t mean that he was a walkover though, and soon enough, he had gained a reputation for being a dirty fighter when provoked, usually when he caught someone bullying or tormenting an animal.

His parents would scold him for each altercation, and he would be punished, grounding or extra chores depending on the severity of the infraction. Yet later at night his mother would kiss him on the cheek and tell her she was proud of him, and his father would clap him on the shoulder and take time to talk to him about whatever wild creature he was raising now. It was their way of supporting him, of telling him that they were proud of him.

He didn’t like violence.

But he knew that it was a weapon.

Sometimes a necessary one.

That was part of the reason for why Jack had signed up, shocking the rest of his family who had expected him to remain on the farm, or to follow his oldest brother to college and aim for a career that kept him far away from war and conflict. It was also why they had been loud and enduring in their attempts to persuade him not to go, and he had to admit that it was tempting, that he had spent days pouring over the brochures for veterinary school. Yet, in the end, he refused to shift because he had seen the news. Sitting on the couch, surrounded by his family and watching as the world braced itself for war, his hands clenched in his lap. He knew that for a time he could avoid it, but he could see that there was more to it in the expressions of the newscasters, in the shadows in his parent’s eyes as they spoke about it late at night when they thought no one else could hear it.

People were afraid.

People that couldn’t necessarily fight for themselves, and as much as Jack hated violence, he hated seeing that kind of fear even more, and so he signed up. Holding his mother tight on the day that he left, promising her that he would come home safe and sound. Shaking his father’s hand, seeing the pride and fear in the blue eyes that were so like his, and gazing out across the farm that had been his whole world until now.

_I will be back._

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I have had this file called 'Jack Morrison hated violence' in my files for far too long, and finally looked at it and realised (a) I had more it written than I thought albeit in need of some tidying and (b) I quite liked it. So here we are with the prologue, and the first chapter will be up at somepoint tomorrow once I've finished tidying it.


End file.
